


Small Packages

by Another_Freak1258



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universes - Giants, Captive/Captor vibes, Dean is really rude for awhile, Denial of Feelings, F/M, GT, Giant Dean, Giant/Tiny, Human Sam, M/M, Medieval-ish time period, Slow Burn, Tiny sam, Unrelated Winchesters, Vore, im not playing around sams itty bitty, tags will change, there will be some freaky deaky smut but that’s in awhile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_Freak1258/pseuds/Another_Freak1258
Summary: Sam is abducted along with a group of humans by a man-eating giant, but is lucky enough to win the giant’s sentiment with a rather trivial favor. But the human’s luck has run out when Dean’s lover grows jealous of their strange relationship, and Sam’s life is on the chomping (nom nom nom) block once more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea for awhile & I’m gonna try my best to execute the vision but I’m already having trouble w/ it, so I’m not sure when this will be updated but the next chappie will def be longer

When you spend your entire life believing in something, _knowing_ something, it should then come as no real surprise when you actually encounter it. However, Sam Winchester doesn’t find this to be the case when it comes to the existence of giants.

Giants were known far and wide, no matter where you travelled. They were a universal threat that brought together mystical and non-magical beings alike, and although attacks and sightings were reported quite often, Sam never expected to lose his life to one of them...

Akin to the climax of a horror story, Sam’s home was ripped from it’s foundation (not terribly impressive, considering the material and size, but _still_!) along with a few of his neighbors’. After receiving a violent de-roofing, Sam’s home was tilted unceremoniously upside down— _like a drinking glass_ —and the young man tumbled out, screaming. Something landed on top of Sam, probably his couch, because he can’t remember anything after the impact knocked him out cold.

Now the unfortunate human groans, still rubbing his head as he recounts how he ended up in what must be some sort of weaved jar with a few of his neighbors.

“Sam,” cries the soft voice of Miss Gratt, a young widow. “What do we do?”

Sam isn’t exactly sure why Miss Gratt—what’s her first name again?—has latched onto him for comfort. Sam might be the tallest person in this... Jar, but he’s by no means an escape artist. He’s pretty sure Brady and his family were taken, too. Brady is much more domineering and outgoing than him, so why isn’t she coddling up to him instead?

Sam’s saved from answering when a bright light suddenly blinds them all, causing various people to groan or outright scream. Or, well, the screaming starts when they all release a ginormous hand is reaching into the wicker container.

Possessed by his straight and narrow survival instinct, Sam pushes Miss Gratt away when huge fingers near the two of them. She’s picked up, plucked out of the jar like nothing more than a loud, troublesome piece of candy... Sam’s aghast at his own actions, watching Miss Gratt glare at him in betrayal before flailing in the air desperately. The giant reseals the jar with a matching wicker lid and once more they are plunged into darkness. As they all grow quieter, thunder cracks from outside.

No, not thunder. A voice: “Why’ve you got so many friggin’ layers on,” can be heard for miles it’s so _loud_. Sam covers his ears, shivering in fear. If it weren’t obvious before from the size and texture of the giant’s hands, it is male. Which probably doesn’t matter—but maybe a female giant would’ve been nicer? Sam’s not sure how far gender behaviors have extended to giants.

Miss Gratt is still screaming, but her voice is much quieter than the giant’s. Sam can’t see what’s happening outside, but he can imagine the scene: Miss Gratt, the poor women, held high above ground, having her skirts and overcoat clumsily ripped off by the giant’s meaty fingers. Stripped bare and devoured, meeting her gruesome end in the beast’s acidic belly. Sam prays she suffocates before she gets that far...

Now more or less conscious, Sam timidly feels around. He waits for someone to say something, but it’s quiet in the container. Was he mistaken? How long... How long has he been asleep? Did his head injury deceive him?

Reaching out cautiously to feel, Sam’s hand bumps into someone’s skirts. He frowns. “Hello?” There’s no answer. Well, he’s not alone, but whoever’s left with him must have swooned from the excitement. Sam takes a shaky breath and tries not to start crying. Miss Gratt... Oh... What are they gonna do?

When the mysterious woman rises once more, Sam demands for them to identify themselves. It turns out to be Brady’s wife, Caroline, absolutely hysterical after losing both her husband and firstborn. Sam cries along with her, and they hold each other.

They are there long enough that a ‘bathroom’ needs to be designated. It’s degrading, to be kept in a jar like fresh cookies, waiting until the giant wants to dip his greedy hands in again... But Sam tries to keep things positive for his companion’s sake, even though deep down he’s already accepted their fate...

 

  
Caroline is taken two days later. Sam is left alone in the jar, no one to talk to but himself and whoever he imagines up. But most of the time he just listens to the giant thump around and mumble to himself about trivial things. Just sitting in a wicker jar, waiting for death. _How noble_ , Sam scoffs to himself.

 _I wonder if they’ve held my funeral_. The answer is most likely no, Sam was not popular among their relatively large village. This wasn’t for a lack of virtue or effort, but because of his financial status. Sam lived on the outskirts of the village, in place referred to most often as a gypsy cesspool, with a few other unfortunate people. But he got by... Just not with many friends.

There would only be one who truly missed him: Jessica. Jess was the only upper class villager that acknowledged him. That spoke to him like another human being. Sam had always thought his community was so petty for alienating him just because he couldn’t afford a nice home, but now it feels even more ridiculous, considering the situation he’s in. Who has time for inane class drama when you could be plucked from your home by a hungry giant, rich or poor?

Sam’s brought out of his brooding abruptly by what he assumes to be a door being unlocked. A loud rattle echoes, followed by abnormal thuds that usually indicate the giant’s steps. Sam tenses up, wondering if this is the night he leaves this prison for his final resting place.

“Sonova _bitch_ ,” cusses the giant, speech more slurred than usual. It sounds like he’s emptying out something, though unsuccessful. “Ugh.”

An unhappy giant is marginally worst than a happy giant, so Sam grows more worried. It appears like his captor is pissy and drunk... What does that mean for Sam? Will the giant rip off his limbs one by one, dipping them in sauce before gulping down his flesh? Sam can’t help but start sobbing.

Sam is so preoccupied with these probable scenarios that he doesn’t notice how quiet it’s become. The only sound that can be heard is heavy breathing and Sam’s manifested terror.

Suddenly, the lid is removed.

More of a crier than a screamer, Sam stares up at the dim light flooding the container with a gasp. A huge calloused hand comes into view, and Sam curls even further in on himself with a whimper. “No...” He’s not ready. Please. He’s not ready to die.

Warm fingers wrap around Sam’s body and scoop him up. It appears Sam is only just barely half the size of the giant’s pinky. He feels like a field mouse, or a roach.

The giant’s grip on him is brutal. Sam can still breathe, but it’s very difficult considering how scared he is. That fear triples as he’s raised higher and higher above a huge desk, complete with parchment and books. And the blasted wicker jar. Sam forces himself to peer up, getting a reasonable look at the giant’s face for the first time.

He’s not at all what Sam had imagined. The giant is most clearly intoxicated, but to what level cannot be determined by appearance alone. He’s younger than presumed, maybe only a few years older than Sam if humans and giants age at the same rate, and very tan. He’s shaved recently, albeit poorly, and where his skin isn’t obscured by facial hair you can see a plethora of freckles dusting his face. His hair is no dirtier than Sam’s, grown out in dirty blond waves that are currently pushed to the side, but still relatively short in comparison to traditional men’s hair. The most captivating feature of this giant, however, are his green eyes. Sam stares at them in terror, fleetingly wondering if they’re normally more vivid when not tired and glossy.

“Hey,” the giant suddenly says, making Sam cringe. His arms are pinned down, so any effort to cover his ears are sabotaged. The giant must not be too drunk, because he purses his plump lips with a frown and seems to recognize why Sam looks in pain. “Sorry,” the giant mumbles under his breath, the volume still loud but much more manageable. Sam’s wondering if a tipsy giant is better than a happy giant, because he sure didn’t hear any apologizes exchanged when Miss Gratt was having her clothes torn off. Still Sam remains silent, staring wide eyed at the man-eating monster. “You mute or somethin’?” The giant squints in confusion. Sam, although terrified, can’t help but think there’s an element of awesome to this vantage point; the way the giant’s lips move, looking so real—like a real normal person—just... _Ginormous_.

“No,” Sam answers very quietly. The giant doesn’t hear him. “No,” the human repeats with more nerve and amplitude than he should be capable of in this situation.

“Good,” the giant grumbles, looking away from Sam for a moment as he takes a small step back from the desk. His boot must get caught on something, because he stumbles a tiny bit, nearly giving Sam a heart attack. “I need yo’t do somethin’ for me.”

Caught off guard, Sam tilts his head at the giant and furrows his brow. “What?”

“I dropped my... m’ring. It’s under—” The giant stifles a belch, and Sam no longer finds awesomeness in his vantage point as the stench of digested meat and mead waft over him like a disgusting gust of air. “My desk.”

Sam nods slowly at the giant, and they stare at each other for a moment before the human begins to descend. He’s seriously being put down? This is his chance—Sam could make a run for it!

“Get it f’me,” the giant demands, dropping Sam a few feet above the ground of the cabin. Landing with an umpf, Sam looks at the giant’s huge muddy boots and shakes. Just one step and he’d be squished like a bug. He probably wouldn’t even make that big of a stain... “Get it.” The giant must have grown impatient with Sam’s immobility, because the metal toe of his boot pushes against the majority of Sam’s left side, knocking him over and under the desk. Sam lays wherever he is, among dust bunnies, trying not to hyperventilate from the experience for a few seconds before he even attempts to get his bearings.

Thankfully there’s no word from the giant as Sam stumbles around under the desk, hands outstretched as he blindly searches for... a ring, right? Sam searches as quickly as possible as to not please the giant, but because the sooner he finds the ring the sooner he will be out from under this dusty desk.

Eventually, Sam’s right hand collides with something cold. He gasps, tense, before realizing this is probably what he was sent down here to look for. The brunette feels the object more throughly before deciding it’s definitely a ring and starts hauling it towards the dim slither of light in the distance.

When he’s at the giant’s feet once more, Sam coughs and heaves, convinced he just breathed in enough dust to kill ten men.

“Heh, you actually found it,” the giant sounds impressed, or surprised, Sam can’t really tell. He shivers in fear as the giant bends down into a squat, picking up both him and the ring at once. He’s not being held as tightly as before, though, so that’s a plus.

Sam gulps as the giant takes the ring away and makes several attempts to return it to his hand before realizing he’s trying to slip it on the wrong finger. Satisfied, the giant returns his attention to Sam, expression on his face unfairly unreadable for how big of a face it is. Sam can’t help but let a few tears slip out.

The giant brings Sam close, very close, to his eyes, presumably examining Sam. The human tries to put on a brave face but ultimately fails, quivering like a newborn foal under the giant’s intense gaze. “You’re a pretty little thing.” The giant’s breath thankfully doesn’t reach him, but his words make Sam’s blood run cold.

 _Pretty_? Oh, gods. What does _that_ mean for him?

The giant starts moving towards the other end of the cabin, taking Sam with him. Being carried away from the jar makes Sam think something really, really bad is about to happen. He’s not being let go out of gratitude, nor put away for a later snack. Something is happening now, and Sam prays it has nothing to do with his _prettiness_.

Plopping down on the bed nearly gives Sam whiplash, but the giant doesn’t seem to notice. He’s preoccupied with taking off his boots, laces now a complex enigma with the impairment of his depth perception. Sam’s set aside on the coarse sheets, scurrying away from the giant once he’s looked away.

It doesn’t matter. The bed isn’t close enough to any other furniture for Sam to escape, nor is it low enough to the ground for him to attempt to scale down it. The giant has already passed out by the time Sam’s come to this conclusion.

“I might as well get some rest myself,” Sam sighs, trying to get as far away from the gigantic beast without putting himself at risk to falling off. Sleep comes more easily than expected, especially considering the giant’s drunken snores sound like an approaching tornado.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam strikes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen I don’t know anything about crops so let’s just ignore the logistics of them and focus on the plot

All things considered, a giant’s bed isn’t the worse place Sam’s ever slept. That can only be attributed to the fact he was burnt out from adrenaline—the mattress is tough and unyielding, at least to Sam’s weight, and the blanket is abrasive and coarse. Still more comfortable than the wooden frame he’d put together himself, which is lying in a pile of rubble right now. The thought is... Not beneficial to Sam’s morale, to say the least. He had very little but what he did have he worked very hard for. It’s alarming to realize, if he hypothetically makes it out of here alive, Sam is now homeless. Becoming disheartened, the human dismisses this from his thoughts and focuses on the task at hand.

After making sure the giant is still slumbering, Sam shakily gets to his feet. While laying, he’d convinced himself to check the surrounding area once more. With the giant unconscious, Sam is more confident and self-preserving. Why had he been so willing to give up his life last night? Sam rubs the crust out of his eyes, noting the tear tracks with embarrassment. _Pathetic_. What would Dad say?

Sam looks up towards the mountain of man. He’s... Gigantic. There’s really no other words. And there’s physically no way around _him_. His impossibly long legs block the other half of the bed. If Sam could just see past them...

“There’s gotta be a way out of here.” Imagine the story this would make! Assuming Sam not only escapes but manages to make a name for himself after the fact. A tale like this would be perfect for a tavern, if Sam were partial to such establishments.

Determined to leave the giant’s home, Sam starts to carefully trek up his trouser-chad legs. They are surprisingly stiff and solid. Sam remains cautious, however, knowing the giant could move any moment in his sleep. Even the slightest shift would throw Sam off his balance.

Once the human has reached the peak, he takes a moment to survey his surroundings. Sam can just barely make out the other side of the cabin, which is constructed out of variously types of wood. It’s... Jaw-dropping. The amount of trees alone that it would take to build this—the amount of trees it _did_ take. Sam can’t believe his eyes. _How does one build something like this?_ he wonders.

All-in-all, the giant’s cabin is not very different than a normal-sized one. He has an array of creature comforts as well as necessities. The furthest corner of the cabin is clearly where food is prepared—a cauldron and fireplace sit ominously, cutlery bigger than Sam hanging above them. Closer to the bed is a small—in relation to the room—table and chair, decorated only by which seem to be vines. Sam considers jumping for the dining table, but even with a running start he doesn’t think he could make it.

Before Sam can consider any alternates, the world moves. Sam yelps in a very unmanly fashion, arms swinging in the air in an attempt to catch his balance before falling backwards. His heart rate triples in fear, less because the giant might discover him, more because the giant might _not_ and accidentally smother him in the process.

“Ah, fuck,” groans the giant, waking up. Sam focuses on not being pinned in any way, dashing up the giant’s other leg once he’s oriented himself as to reach the portion of the bed Sam considers safe territory.

When Sam does, he flips down where he’d slept and looks up at the giant, who is now leaning against the headboard and rubbing his face. Briefly, the human considers the night before. _Is this a good or a bad thing he’s hungover?_ Sam debates. Will the giant remember letting Sam out? Will he assume he’d eaten Sam and then the brunette can hide until he’s devised a way to go free? Sam bunches up some of the fabric to hide his body. It doesn’t take much fabric.

The giant is too distracted by his suspected headache to notice something so insignificant in his bed, as well as recall the night before. With no little disturbance to his tiny resident, the giant rises.

For being in pain, the giant moves rather easily around. He’s probably used to this routine. Sam’s pretty sure the giant is no stranger to alcohol, but the question is: where does it all come from? It must take barrels upon barrels to even put a dent in the giant’s sobriety! Did the giant raid Treval after abducting Sam and his neighbors for the village’s supply of mead?

The giant hacks into a misshapen bucket for a brief period, making Sam flinch at the noise, before pulling a jug out of a cupboard and drinking deeply. Sam can’t tell if it’s water or something richer.

Then, the huge man trudges over to the wicker jar Sam had previously been trapped in. The brunette grips the fabric tighter. What is he meant to do? Sam begins sweat profusely. Is there any way he can bargain with the giant? Surely being found is inevitable.

“What?” is all the giant says when he realizes the container is empty. His face is confused rather than angry. He must not remember letting Sam out after he stumbled home. Sam feels a sick sense of justice at seeing the giant’s disappointed face. He’s gorged himself these last days and now he’s missing breakfast! It’s a satisfying sight.

The giant blinks at the wicker jar for a spell before returning the lid. He squints suspiciously, and Sam’s stress spikes. _Oh, gods, he’s remembering!_

“Where the hell did I...” Sam watches the giant search the room, growing increasingly agitated. “Where _are_ you?”

Seeing him confident that Sam is still in the cabin is unnerving. Sam remains put, still as stone, and prays that the giant is too stupid to find him. So far those stories of less-than-bright giants seem hugely inaccurate. This one is considerably perceptive.

After looking under various pieces of furniture, the giant stands suddenly. Still squinting his eyes, he sneers unhappily. “Maybe I’ll be kinder if you show yourself.” He sure doesn’t sound like it...

Eventually the giant begins examining the bedsheets, and Sam can’t remain still any longer. He takes off with nothing but the hind-brain instinct to _run, run, run_ and he’s nearly slipped back under cover when—“Ah ha!” The giant laughs at Sam’s minute struggles, pleased with himself. Terrifyingly, Sam is lifted up to the giant’s face, not dissimilar to last time. “Hey, little guy.”

Embarrassingly, pathetically, Sam responds before he can stop himself. “Hi,” he squeals. His brown eyes shut in humiliation, mouth pressed tightly closed as his face flushes.

Although the human doesn’t see, the giant’s eyes soften just momentarily in the way eyes do when presented with something small and adorable. He’s amused by both Sam’s terror and embarrassment, chuckling.

Sam cracks open his eyes and notices the giant’s smug grin has soften into a smile. He thinks quickly, appealing to this change. “Thank you for letting me sleep in your bed!” he yells stiffly.

The giant raises a single, thick eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Last night!” Sam squirms a bit in the fist, nervous and sweaty. “You let me out! For your ring!” Confused is a much better look on the giant than anger, but Sam elaborates for his own benefit. “I retrieved your ring and you let me out.”

Blinking slowly at the human, Sam begins to wonder if he overestimated the giant’s brightness. “Uh-huh.”

The terror of staring death quite literally in the face catches up to Sam, and the giant’s apathetic ‘uh-huh’ pushes him over the emotional edge. The brunette curses his cowardice, sniffling as he tries not to full-out bawl. “Th-Thank you f-for letting-ing me out?” Sam laughs nervously.

Loosing his grip, the giant looks over Sam curiously, most likely debating how to remove his clothes for... For...

“It was very wonderful-ul of you!” Sam desperately shouts. “To g-give me... That opportunity! I-I-I would love to help y-you mo-more! Surely there are other things you cannot reach for your-yourself!” What, he doesn’t know, but Sam is grasping at straws.

The giant pokes at his stomach gently. Sam can’t help but let out an unattractive gasp at the pressure. He takes in a shaky breath, watching the giant’s huge pointer finger with uneasy eyes.

“What’s your name?” the giant mumbles, looking a lot less hungry and more thoughtful. Sam calms himself down by taking a few deep breathes.

“S-Sam, sir. Winchester. Sam Winchester.”

“Sam,” the giant repeats approvingly. He’s playing with Sam’s fingers, playfully pressing the human’s entire hand between two of his own digits. Just a little more pressure and they’d snap like twigs, little effort exerted on the giant’s part. “Little Sam Winmister.”

“Winchester.”

“Win _chester_.” Moving his free hand away, Dean breaks eye contact in favor of plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I guess it’d be polite of me to thank you.” Sam’s moved lower, close to the giant’s stomach.

He doesn’t sound particularly thankful. “N-No trouble...” Sam whips his head a little, trying to move his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. It’s probably a good idea to keep the conversation going. “You were in quite a state.” There’s a brief period of silence.

The giant laughs. “I’ve never met a human so chatty before.” Sam has to crane his neck in a painful fashion to look up at him properly. “Are you always like this when you’re scared?”

The allusion of the giant talking down to him like he’s a dumb animal isn’t lost on Sam. In a moment of bravery, he huffs in offense. “I’m not scared.”

“Of course... It isn’t like I would crush the life out of you on a whim.” The hand holding Sam suddenly encloses him inside, plunging the human in completely darkness before it’s over just as quickly. The giant brings Sam closer to his face. “Like I could swallow you whole, without a thought.”

Sam’s heart hammers in his chest, eyes falling to the giant’s upturned lips in panic. “No...”

“You’re so small, Sammy,” the giant marvels. “I could do _anything_ I wanted to you.”

There isn’t much Sam can do but beg. “Please, don’t. I—I want to live.” Sam doesn’t have a family, or a home, or _anything_ but his memories and imagination. But he isn’t ready to die, especially like this. “There has to be something I can offer you, sir.”

Snorting, the giant wets his lips. “There isn’t much you can offer me besides breakfast, little human.” He has the decency to frown sympathetically. “Nothing personal.”

Sam’s moved closer to the monster’s mouth, triggering an onslaught of fight or flight instincts. He squirms violently in the huge hand, which only earns the human more pressure on his torso and arms. “No! It _is_ personal! I helped you!” It isn’t much, but the giant pauses. “The least you could do is spare me!”

After some deliberation, the giant moves Sam away from his mouth. “Spare you, huh, spunky?” He sounds somewhat impressed by Sam’s demands. “Spare you for what, exactly? The harsh winter?”

The monster’s casual talk about Sam’s life is more than insulting. The human grits his teeth angrily. “I’m not a wheel of cheese!”

“No, no,” the giant laughs. “You’re barely more than a mouthful.”

Sam’s face is red, but not from fear anymore. How dare this beast be so smug and condescending! “Where’s your shame?! You have no right to play with my life like—“ Sam screams as he’s thrown a few yards in the air, caught by the giant, and thrown again.

“No right?” the giant hums, continuing to treat Sam as a coin. “This is my lot in life, Sammy, and unfortunately _your_ lot is filling my stomach. ‘Sides that you’re useless to me.”

Grasped firmly once more, the human holds on tightly to the giant’s fingers when he notices he’s being brought closer to the huge, looming mouth. He sets aside his anger and looks around frantically. There must be something he can offer! But nothing around the cabin inspires ideas. It’s desolate, almost lonely—

Sam presses his outstretched hands against the giant’s lips in protest. “Company?!” he yells, unsure himself.

Instead of moving him away, the giant simply raises him. Huge, unimpressed eyes bore through Sam’s very soul. “What makes you think I’d keep the likes of you around, little human?”

“I’m sure you’re hard-pressed to find others like yourself, sir,” Sam guesses, words spilling out of his mouth without peer review. “And winter _is_ coming. I bet those are the longest months for you.” Sam doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is coherent. “I would be very handy to have around, don’t you think? I know many stories, I could tell you everything I know about humans.”

The green eyes rake over him, somehow brighter than earlier.

Sam gulps. “Let me earn my freedom. And if I truly prove ‘useless’, as you say... I won’t rebuke my...” Wearily, the human glances down at the mouth nearly as big as him, so close he could kick the lips if he so chose. “Lot.”

“You’re a persuasive little thing,” the giant rumbles. “I’ve never had a pet before.”

 _I’ve got him_. Sam remains steadfast and ignores the insult. “What say you, sir?” He tries not to appear as impatient as he feels for the answer.

The longest seconds of Sam’s life follow his question. Finally, the giant grunts, “Dean.” At Sam’s confused expression, he explains. “If you’re sticking around there’s no way I’m letting you yip ‘sir’ at me every other sentence. I don’t do that formal nonsense. My name’s Dean.”

Sam’s about to respond when the bone-chilling sound of Dean’s stomach growling interrupts his train of thought. He must go white as a sheet, because the giant laughs heartily before standing up. “Calm down. Where’d all that bravery go?” Dean nonchalantly sets Sam on his desk before moseying over to the kitchen.

Although he’s succeeding in postponing his death, Sam feels no more relieved than he did five minutes ago. It’s disappointing. Did he really accomplish anything? Who’s to say Dean won’t go back on their agreement before the day’s end? The giant doesn’t inspire much confidence...

Sam’s stomach groans in hunger, but the human thinks asking for food would open to many verbal doors that lead to him being food. Instead, he sits down on the wooden desk and watches the giant boil a plethora of vegetables. It surely takes the labor of a whole village to feed this giant daily.

“I bet you’re pretty peckish yourself,” Dean remarks, looking unreasonably pleased with himself. He walks over with some potatoes pressed between his fingers, dropping them in front of Sam. They aren’t clean, but Sam has eaten worse. He’s eaten worse regularly.

“Thank you.” Sam only dusts it off once before taking a bite of the raw potato, leaving the other to roll around beside him. After he gets past the bitter flavor of dirt, the starchiness is throughly enjoyed.

Dean creepily watches him before the human notices his leering. Well, it’s probably not intended to come across as leering, but standing miles over someone is not comforting. He walks back to the cauldron, cooking without comment.

Sam eats the dirty potatoes, conspiring. It’s unlikely Dean will let him go. That means the human will have to devise a plan of escape. Nothing has changed, Sam’s just bought himself more time. And arguably given himself an advantage. Either Dean will grow more lenient of Sam’s confinement or he will be returned to the wicker jar. The latter doesn’t sound overly promising, but Sam is now familiar with the layout of the cabin. That must count for something. All he has to do is play the part of the incapable prey and wait for the opportunity to make a break for it. Then...

Then? Sam frowns. He’ll have nothing but the clothes on his back. Maybe Dean has gold laying around somewhere? Giants have to have _some_ form of currency. He’ll need to keep an eye out for such. The thought of being completely penniless...

Worst case scenario Sam walks until he finds a farm, then offers himself as a farmhand. That doesn’t sound too bad.

Drawn out of his thoughts by the disgusting sound of slurping, Sam looks over to discover Dean’s finished cooking, now sitting at his table ungentlemanly with his legs widely spread as he guzzles down his soup. Dean’s looking over at Sam with a disturbing intensity, still gulping down enough food for the human to swim in.

“I’ve got a garden to tend.” Dean’s voice has no trouble reaching Sam from across the room. He doubts that goes both ways, however. “It’s very difficult. Everything’s very... Fragile. _Tiny_.” Sam’s intuitive enough to see where this is going. Dean takes one last drink of his soup before standing up and stretching. The giant is wearing plain pants and a mock replication of a tunic. It isn’t ugly, but obviously old and worn. Dean’s biceps make the fabric bulge.

Not picking Sam up as much as grabbing him, Dean carries Sam outside. It isn’t much brighter outside than it was inside the cabin, but the brunette still squints his eyes as he examines the landscape.

From this perspective, Sam can see for miles. Unfortunately, all he sees for miles is trees. The way Dean came from must be on the other side of the house, because Sam doubts the giant didn’t trample a portion of the forest to clear himself a path.

Dean takes him to the left side of the house, squatting. Sam forces himself to look away from the horizon and towards the ground. Below them, Sam notices row after row of crop. Sam fleetingly feels better knowing this must be where Dean gets the majority of his vegetables, not some unlucky village.

Without warning, the giant puts Sam down, making the human stumble. “You can just set ‘em in a pile here.” Dean gestures vaguely to a nude patch of grass, standing up. “You know how to prune, don’t you?”

It doesn’t look like Dean does. The crops are minimally maintained, by no means thriving. Sam supposes there’s only so much Dean can do for their fruitfulness, though. What with his size and all.

Rolling up his sleeves, Sam gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment so I feel fulfilled <3

**Author's Note:**

> wow think of how much alcohol dean drinks relative to sams size... holy shit. plz comment btw


End file.
